


Touch

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Just another variation of a first kiss - in the bookshop, where Aziraphale helps reassure Crowley that everything there is real and whole again.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	Touch

On the second day after the world failed to end, Aziraphale puttered around his bookshop, taking books out of sections they did not belong in, and putting them where they did. He had kept the CLOSED sign firmly in place, though that hadn’t kept out Crowley, who paced idly about, sometimes tossing out a conversational line or two, but mostly simply touching things as if to make sure they were real.

“Everything is fine,” Aziraphale said after an hour of Crowley touching bookcases and statues and chairs and windowsills and tables and walls and pretty much anything that _could_ be touched. “The bookshop is all right.” Not burned to the ground, not lost. Perfectly fine, other than a lot of misplaced books.

“Right. Sorry.” Crowley strolled over to the chess set that sat on a small round table. He picked up a pawn, rolled it between his fingers, and set it down again. Then he picked up the next one.

“Crowley.” 

“Hm?”

“It’s _fine_.” Of course he was making sure. The poor fellow had _seen_ the place burn. He’d been _inside_ it. “Your car is fine, my shop is fine.” Too much fire, all in all, between the car and the bookshop, not to mention hellfire in Heaven. 

“Yeah, right.” Crowley stopped fiddling with the chess pieces, and ran his long, slender fingers along the edge of the table. “Hard to believe.”

“Yes, I know. But it did happen – the world got returned to normal, and everything in here is solid and real and quite the way it ought to be. Well, except for the books that aren’t on the correct shelves. Minor problem at best.”

Crowley looked over at him then, his gaze soft, the sunglasses long since discarded. “Are _you_ solid and real and quite the way you ought to be?”

“Of course I am.” Aziraphale had never been discorporated before that one horrid accident. It had felt extremely disorienting, for – as he’d explained to the officious angel he’d encountered in Heaven – his corporation _had_ been six thousand years old.

Being so suddenly wrenched out of it, and then so oddly returned to it, had left him feeling quite peculiar indeed. But once he’d managed to get it back, he’d checked it over quite thoroughly in a private moment and yes, it was exactly the same as before, ever so comfortable and familiar. 

Crowley seemed unsure of everything, though – of the _reality_ of the world being set to rights.

He crossed over to the table, where his friend had started picking up chess pieces again. Aziraphale lay a hand gently on his arm. “Please stop.”

Tension coursed through Crowley’s arm. He could feel it. “ _Please?”_

Crowley slowly set down the chess piece. “I’m sorry, Angel. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Come and sit down.” Aziraphale tugged at his sleeve. “Come over to the sofa and I’ll make some cocoa. Perhaps with a relaxing drop of something extra – amaretto all right?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

He let go his hold as Crowley followed him into the back of the shop. There he set about fixing two mugs of cocoa, while Crowley sank onto the sofa in that usual sprawl of his, as if defying the world to contain him.

Aziraphale hummed in a non-melodic fashion as he poured out the hot chocolate, then decided a little music might help Crowley relax. He snapped his fingers, and his old-fashioned gramophone started playing a selection of adagios for strings at a low, soothing volume.

He poured a generous amount of amaretto into each mug, stirring it in briskly. And then he had an idea. He handed a mug to Crowley, and then he sat beside him, instead of in his usual desk chair.

“Hey?” Crowley raised one eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Aziraphale sipped the cocoa, savoring the rich chocolate that was even sweeter with the added liqueur. “I can’t sit on my own sofa?”

“You don’t sit on your own sofa.” He nodded at the desk. “You sit over there.”

“Yes, well, you seemed to want some reassurance that I was solid and real, so here I am, close enough for you to check.” He smiled. “You’ve touched everything else in here, after all.” He paused. “To make _sure_.”

Crowley gaped at him. He cradled the mug in both hands, turning it round and round. “Ur…uh…hm? Are you saying – I mean… _what?”_

“Drink your cocoa, my dear. It’s quite good.” Aziraphale closed his eyes for a few moments, enjoying the romantic strains of the violin music wafting through the bookshop. Then he opened his eyes to see Crowley drinking his cocoa, his gaze still on him, with a slight furrow between his brows.

Aziraphale drank his mug down to the dregs and set it aside. He waited until Crowley did the same, and then he shifted over a little closer. He had taken off his coat hours ago, and now he undid his waistcoat buttons, which felt ever so freeing.

Crowley sat sideways, facing him, watching him, with one leg bent at the knee, the other tucked in. Aziraphale leaned forward to rest a hand atop the bent knee. “Does that feel solid?”

“Mmm. Yeah—um. Yes?” Crowley’s amber eyes had gone quite wide, and he didn’t seem to be breathing much. “Uh…you know…It’s fine, really….”

“But you ought to make sure.” Aziraphale had wanted Crowley to touch him so many times over the centuries – not a mere brushing of fingers or a light hand on his arm, not just an accidental touch, but a genuine caress, a touch that expressed _wanting_ and _needing_ within its embrace.

“I should? I mean – oh, hell. I should. Right. Yeah.” Crowley swallowed, and reached out to put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s. 

Those beautiful slender fingers intertwined with his, held them, touched them with a firm, oh so solid grasp, and did not let go. 

Who knew that Heaven could dwell within a single caress?

“You’re real,” Crowley breathed. He closed his eyes. “Everything is real….”

Aziraphale raised their clasped hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed Crowley’s fingertips. “The world was made whole again. And it was done with love.” He smiled softly, gazing at his dearest friend, and raised his eyebrows in open entreaty. “Especially in this place, I can feel love all round us. And I feel it between us, just you and I.”

Crowley gasped as he opened his eyes. “Angel? You—you….” He shook his head, bit his lower lip, and then suddenly pulled Aziraphale to him, into a full embrace, into a closeness only ever dreamed of. 

They wrapped round each other, nestled together, and he stroked the taut muscles of Crowley’s back through the thin fabric of his shirt, easing the tension within. 

“Ah…” Crowley sighed. “That definitely feels real….” He pulled back a little from the tightness of their hold, and brushed a hand down Aziraphale’s face, lightly touching his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth, and then the caress continued along the jaw, and down his throat, pausing to map the contours of the hollow there before moving back up again. Crowley’s fingers stopped at Aziraphale’s lips.

As he slowly, lightly caressed the upper lip, and then the lower lip, he whispered, “I needed to know. It’s all right now. I’m all right now, Angel. I just needed to touch you.”

Aziraphale kissed the tips of Crowley’s fingers. “And I needed you to touch me – my dear, I’ve _wanted_ you to—“ He couldn’t stand waiting a second longer, overwhelmed by a yearning he’d held in check for far too long. He gently moved Crowley’s hand away, swiftly closed the gap between their mouths, and kissed him.

He felt as if the world was remade once more in that touch, made _right_ just a little bit more, a world he had known since its beginning with all of its seeming flaws was suddenly, wondrously _perfect_. As his lips touched Crowley’s, Aziraphale touched earth and fire, and as Crowley’s lips parted, allowing him in, he touched a whisper of heavenly breath from long ago.

He touched Crowley’s soul, breathed in the richness of it, held onto the deepness of a night-filled sky where an angel once crafted the very stars therein. He thought he could hear Crowley’s thoughts, his wishes, his desires. _Touch all of my world, Angel._

And he did. For one astonishing moment, Aziraphale felt truly whole, in one kiss, in one caress, in a single touch.

And then it ended, because it had to end sometime, and then it began again, and again, and ended again and again, and then somewhere in a timeless place of their own making, they found a natural culmination, because even spiritual beings need to rest.

Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale’s chest. “You just took all my breath away.” He smiled. “Metaphorically speaking.”

“Yes.” Probably a good thing indeed, that they didn’t actually need to breathe. He placed his hand on Crowley’s chest, over his heart. “Would this be a good time to say that I love you?”

Crowley pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Nah. Want to kiss you some more. You know, to be _sure_.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. _As if_. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love you. You love me. Yes?”

“Yes.” For the first time that day, Crowley looked completely relaxed, and happy, and he smiled as he said, “I can still tease you though, can’t I?”

“Of course you can, and I can tease _you_. We’re best friends. It’s what we do.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Good. Because I love that we can do that.” He paused. “And I do love you.” 

Those were words he had waited a long time to hear, and on finally hearing them, Aziraphale felt as light as the air itself, as if he could float away into the clouds. 

Metaphorically speaking, that is.

He started a circular massage of Crowley’s chest. “I’d like to simply lie here for a bit, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I’d like us to hold each other, and to just be here together for a while.”

“Anything you want.”

They stretched out, and settled in, and found a comfortable way to embrace. And they lay there, just being there together, simply holding each other, and they found a newly made world in every touch.


End file.
